Hogwarts Nightmare
by CLS
Summary: What would you do if you suddenly woke up in the middle of the Sorting Ceremony and discovered you were an American transfer student? A brief gothic tale.


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Hogwarts Nightmare

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by CLS

"Go 'way!" I muttered.  

Someone was shaking me.  I heard words, too indistinct to understand.  My cheek rested against the smooth surface of my desk and I couldn't be bothered to open my eyes.  

_Leave me alone_, I thought grumpily.  I'd stayed up late, too late, reading 'Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody'[1] and I must have fallen asleep at my desk.  

"Connie?  Can you hear me?"

_Of course I can hear you.  I'd just rather be sleeping. _

More shaking.  Without opening my eyes, I stuck out my arm, trying to find my glasses.  

"Are you all right?"

The voice was unfamiliar, the voice of a child or maybe a teenage boy.  What's more, my fumbling hand hadn't found any glasses, nor any of the detritus that usually lay all over my desk.  Instead, it latched on to something thin, hard and metallic. 

"She just fainted!  Or maybe she had a fit," explained the voice hovering somewhere near my left shoulder.

"When the Sorting is done, we should take her to the Hospital Wing," said another voice, this one female, with an air of authority.

"Huh?"  I sat bolt upright, blinking and expecting things to be out of focus without my glasses.  But everything was crystal clear, from the tables crowded with students that ran along the length of the huge room to the hundreds of candles floating overhead.

Floating overhead?

"Where--Wha--Who are--" I managed to stutter as I looked around frantically, taking in a vision of what could only be the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Connie, don't you remember?" said a concerned Hermione Granger.  "You've just been Sorted.  You sat down at the Gryffindor table and then had a sort of a fit."

"Who do you th--Er, do you know me?  I mean, how did I get here?"  I continued to gaze in disbelief at the scene.  Plenty of people at the Gryffindor table stared back at me, although they returned to their loud chattering with one another the longer I looked around. In the background I could hear the Sorting Ceremony still going on. The bushy-haired girl sitting next to me continued to regard me with concern, as did the tall redhead sitting next to her.

_Holy shit_, I thought, _this is some dream_.  Maybe I shouldn't have spiked that last cup of hot cocoa with so much vodka.  Maybe I shouldn't read parodies after midnight.  Maybe I need to find some healthier hobbies.

"You got sorted first," Ron piped up, "because you're a transfer student--from the Salem Witches' Institute.  Don't you remember?"

"Oh, yeah, of course.  Now I remember…" 

I picked up the large gold plate in front of me and held it up.  What I saw reflected in the shiny surface was horrifying, truly horrifying. I had long blonde hair that fell in gentle waves down my shoulders and--I looked down quickly--that probably cascaded to my waist were I to stand.  I couldn't be sure in the gold-tinted plate, but I appeared to have blue eyes.  As an experiment I tried smiling.  I had perfect teeth.  And dimples. 

"You're okay now, right?" came a husky voice from my right side.  "You acted like me whenever I get near dementors."

Slowly I turned, feeling that this terrible nightmare couldn't get any worse, and found myself practically nose to nose with none other than Harry Potter.  His scar peeked out from underneath his messy black hair and he blinked owlishly at me from behind his glasses.  He looked concerned.  No, more than concerned.  He looked smitten.  In love.

"Fine," I said with a quick (but doubtless devastating) smile.  I put down the plate carefully and, gripping the edge of the table, stood up slowly.  "I think I'll just go find the Hospital Wing after all."

The three of them jumped up and began talking at once.  I smiled again, trying to calm myself as much as them, and said, "I can find it myself.  If I get lost, I'll just ask a ghost.  Right?  Enjoy the feast…and I'm sure that I'll be right back.  I think."

I forced myself to walk, not run, along the long table of students.  Food had started to appear on the plates by this time, so most ignored me, although a few heads turned.  I had to get out before I started screaming.  I quickened my pace, focusing only the huge doors at the end of the hall.  How could this be?  If only I could get out of the Great Hall and think clearly, I could figure a way out of this nightmare.  With a grateful sigh of relief, I pushed my hands against the thick wooden door.  I slipped out of the Great Hall.  Too faint to go further, I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. There had to be a way out. 

"Dear me, our newest student didn't even survive the Feast," whispered a voice in my ear.

I blinked my eyes open and slowly turned my head.  The man next to me had stringy black hair and black eyes that were currently boring into me. 

"Professor Snape?" I stuttered in astonishment.

"Looking for the Hospital Wing?"  He took me by the arm and led me across the Entrance Hall.  

I was too shocked to manage anything else except incoherent mewling.  He looked concerned.

We began to mount a broad flight of stairs and when I stumbled, he put an arm around my waist to steady me.  

"Please, er, Professor," I said with more than a little panic in my voice.  "I can manage.  You don't have to…"

"I insist," he said silkily and smiled.  He no longer looked concerned. 

He looked smitten.  In love.

That's when I started to scream.

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**Author notes:** This is for Matt, who puts evil thoughts into my head that make me laugh. I hope you enjoy it!  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   


_~ CLS (4 January 2003)_   


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[1] _Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody_ by Michael Gerber (London, Gollancz, 2002).


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